There is something quietly radical about the way chef Sujan Sarkar speaks about Indian food. Not because he is intent on reinventing it, but because he insists he isn’t. When t2 connected with the chef, sitting on the other side of the planet, the conversation was about memory. About restraint. About understanding what deserves to remain untouched. As Indienne, the much-lauded first Michelin-starred Indian restaurant in Chicago that transformed perceptions of Indian fine dining there, begins its next chapter in New York, Sarkar told us what it takes to carefully transport a philosophy from one city to another.
New York, he is quick to point out, is hardly unfamiliar territory. “People keep saying I’ve taken the brand somewhere new,” he smiles, “but I lived here before.” His move to Chicago had come during the uncertainty of the pandemic, and returning now feels less like entering uncharted waters than coming back to a city he already knows intimately. “New York is one of the greatest food cities in the world,” he says.
Three and a half years after opening Indienne in Chicago, the timing, he felt, was finally right. That confidence has been earned over more than two decades in professional kitchens, although Indian cuisine wasn’t where the journey began. Sarkar spent the early years of his career immersed in modern European cooking, an experience that still forms the backbone of the way he thinks about technique and structure. “That’s the foundation of everything I do,” he says.
The food at Indienne is frequently described as progressive or modern Indian, labels he accepts with a degree of indifference, provided they are not mistaken for fusion. “We’re not interested in mixing cuisines,” he says firmly. “We’re interested in preserving the essence.”
The distinction matters. For Sarkar, innovation begins only after a dish’s emotional identity has been understood. He speaks about biryani as an example. Ask what the ‘traditional’ version is, he argues, and the answer quickly becomes impossible. Every household, every region and every cook has a different interpretation. Rather than chasing an elusive definition of authenticity, he focuses on what people remember — the familiar aromas, textures and flavours that linger. “Those are the things we never change,” he says. “The stories remain Indian. The flavours remain Indian.”
What does evolve is everything else. Presentation shifts. Technique advances. Ingredients occasionally change as cuisines naturally absorb new influences, but never at the expense of recognition. “The way we eat today isn’t the same as it was 20 years ago,” he reflects. “We’re exposed to so many more cultures and cuisines now. Food has to move forward too. But it shouldn’t lose itself along the way.”
That philosophy reveals itself most clearly in the reactions of his diners. He recalls guests pausing after the very first bite of a dish — a Medu Vada reimagined with remarkable lightness or a Dhokla that appears almost impossibly airy — only to become unexpectedly emotional. “People tell me it tastes exactly like they remember,” he says. “That’s the biggest compliment. It reminds them of something they ate years ago, even though it looks completely different.”
For Sarkar, that response confirms what he has believed all along. The future of Indian cuisine is not about abandoning tradition. It is about carrying its soul into a new era, allowing memory to survive even as the language of fine dining continues to evolve.
That same instinct — to honour memory while refusing to be confined by convention — was also what shaped Indienne’s business model. Opening a large-format Indian tasting-menu restaurant in Chicago in the aftermath of the pandemic was, by any measure, a considerable gamble. Sarkar knew it. “When we secured the space in 2021, nobody could really predict how diners would respond,” he says. Rather than committing entirely to one format, he hedged his bets. The restaurant launched with a split identity: 80 per cent devoted to tasting menus, the remaining 20 per cent operating as a cart concept. “If the tasting menu didn’t work, we could always fall back on the other model,” he admits.
That contingency plan lasted barely three months. “It wasn’t just the Indian community embracing it,” he recalls. “The response came from everyone.” Night after night, the dining room filled, and repeat guests became as significant as first-time visitors. “Once people kept coming back, we knew we could make Indienne entirely about the tasting menu.”
Today, that conviction has become the restaurant’s defining identity. Chicago remains its flagship, serving more than a hundred guests each evening across four simultaneously running tasting menus — vegetarian, vegan, pescatarian and non-vegetarian. It is a logistical feat few restaurants attempt. “Managing four completely different menus every service is incredibly demanding,” Sarkar says matter-of-factly. “But that’s the experience we want to offer.”
New York, however, isn’t intended as a replica. If Chicago established the blueprint, this city allows him to refine it further. The restaurant is smaller, deliberately more intimate, with an emphasis on personal interaction and meticulous service. “We wanted it to feel like you’ve been invited into someone’s home,” he says. “It’s more curated, more detailed and much more personal.”
That pursuit of refinement is perhaps best illustrated by one of Indienne’s most talked-about dishes: Butter Chicken. Or rather, Sarkar’s interpretation of it. The course has become emblematic of his approach precisely because it refuses to rely on nostalgia as shorthand. Instead, it interrogates what nostalgia actually tastes like. “If you change the flavour, you’ve lost the dish,” he says. For him, Butter Chicken has never been defined by its appearance. It is the sauce — the velvety, tomato-rich gravy with its distinctive balance of sweetness, spice and cream — that carries the memory. “That’s the hero,” he explains. “The chicken matters, of course, but it’s the sauce that tells your brain you’re eating Butter Chicken.”
Everything else becomes open to reinterpretation. Instead of the familiar pieces of Tandoori Chicken, Sarkar prepares a carefully composed chicken terrine using multiple cuts of the bird, reducing waste while creating a more refined texture. A touch of roasted red pepper lends sweetness and colour, but the essential flavour profile remains resolutely intact. “We’re not replacing the hero ingredients or renaming something else as Butter Chicken,” he says. “The integrity of the dish always comes first.”
It is a distinction he returns to repeatedly because, in his view, Indian food has long been misunderstood abroad. For decades, it occupied a narrow space in the American imagination — comforting, dependable and frequently reduced to takeaway staples. That landscape, he believes, has shifted dramatically. “When I opened my first restaurant in San Francisco in 2017, the conversation was very different,” he reflects. “There weren’t nearly as many ambitious Indian restaurants.” Today, a new generation of chefs, joined by acclaimed names from London and beyond, has transformed expectations. Diners have become more adventurous, more curious and increasingly willing to engage with Indian food beyond familiar classics.
“I’ve always liked being a little ahead of where the industry is,” he says. “Now I think the audience has caught up.”
Yet he is careful not to frame Indienne as an exercise in exclusivity. The ambition extends far beyond the food on the plate. Hospitality, beverage programmes, wine pairings, non-alcoholic drinks, cocktails, service standards, kitchen culture — each element, he insists, deserves the same level of attention.
The New York menu, naturally, builds on everything that came before rather than beginning from scratch. Before opening its doors, Sarkar and his team had already developed well over a hundred dishes through Indienne’s Chicago kitchen, giving them a vast creative archive to draw from. Yet translating that body of work into a second restaurant was never about duplication. “You can’t keep reinventing every single dish every time,” he says. “With four tasting menus already running in Chicago, we’re creating close to 30 dishes across the different experiences. Behind every one that reaches the plate are many more that never make it.” The evolution is subtler. Certain signatures, including the Butter Chicken course, remain because they have become part of Indienne’s identity. Others are quietly reworked. A Yoghurt Chaat may retain its familiar flavour profile while arriving with an entirely different composition or presentation. “Some dishes are the same, some are similar and others are completely reimagined,” Sarkar explains. “It’s less about changing for the sake of it and more about making each restaurant feel authentic to its own space.”
Fine dining, he acknowledges, has often acquired an undeserved reputation for formality — for lengthy meals, rigid etiquette and an atmosphere that can feel intimidating. Indienne consciously resists all of it. “We’re not interested in telling people how they should eat,” he says. Guests are just as welcome to use their hands as they are cutlery. There is no theatrical flourish of smoke, no elaborate tableside performance designed for social media, nor the kind of marathon tasting menu that demands an entire evening. Seven or eight courses, he believes, offer the ideal balance between indulgence and enjoyment. “After a certain point, any meal can become tiring,” he laughs. “We want people to leave wanting to come back.”
Underlying every course is another layer that many diners may not immediately notice: storytelling. Sarkar believes every dish on the tasting menu deserves a reason for existing beyond its flavour alone. Sometimes that inspiration comes from a specific recipe, sometimes from a place, a work of art or a fleeting childhood memory. Whatever its origin, the narrative matters. “Nothing is random,” he says. “Every dish belongs to the journey.” The stories serve another purpose too. They introduce international diners to the extraordinary breadth of Indian cuisine while helping a multicultural front-of-house team connect with traditions that may not be their own.
“Not everyone working with us comes from India,” he says. “The stories give everyone a shared understanding of why these dishes matter.”